Disclaimer: I'm not Bellesario or CBS, so I don't claim to own them.
Warnings: Forced Puppy Play; Slavery
Word Count: 1,321
Written For: tictactales based on my tile; Prompts: Reindeer, Puppy Play, Pompeii
Written For 2: sinfulslasher's March Prompt
Crossposted: gibbs_dinozzo; tictactales
Summary: There was no option but to go undercover. He just needed to secure one item first.
"No choice but to go in," Gibbs stated at the end of the outline of the current case he was pursuing.
Morrow nodded in agreement. "We can't let this scum take our Marines for forced slavery and unsanctioned dog fights anymore. You'll need a strong cover."
"Abby's working on the background. Only thing I need to secure is my ticket in. Can't fake that one."
"No," Morrow stated. "No matter how hard someone trains for undercover assignments, there is no faking what you need. Will you be able to handle it?"
"It's been a few years, Sir, but I still know my way around the legit circuits. There's a rescue shelter that Abby volunteers at that should have what I need."
"Just make sure you bring it back in one piece, Gibbs. I don't want the activist groups crawling down our throats on this."
"Understood," Gibbs finished and left to find Abby and his undercover persona.
"Agent Gibbs!" Cheryl's voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.
As he turned around to see what else she needed, he was please to note that the pup had stopped with him and was waiting for his next command. His confidence in the success of his operation was increasing with leaps and bounds.
"I almost forgot to give you this," she said and held out her hand.
Gibbs saw a well-used chew toy that from the looks of it was supposed to have been Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer once upon a time. He took the grimy toy from her hand and placed it in his pocket. He didn't miss the fact that Spot's eyes tracked the progress of the toy into his care.
"It's his favorite. Cries at night if it gets misplaced."
Gibbs nodded and thanked her again. Then he turned and snapped out, "Heel," and exited the building, a pup trailing obediently behind him.
Gibbs scrubbed his hand over his face as he watched Spot roam the backyard as he looked for a place to take a leak. It had been years since Gibbs had handled a pup, but it was like riding a bike. The only issue with this bike was that he only had one evening to take the training wheels off before hitting the Tour de France.
Cheryl had told him that Spot's history indicated he only came out of pup mode roughly once a week and when he did, it wasn't for very long periods of time. That alone told Gibbs that Spot had been abused in the past. Based on the training facility he came from, Gibbs knew those pups were trained for three days on and one day off unless being trained for a specific master. Spot had been put in the general auction after his training, so any changes would have been at the hands of his master. With his past pups, Gibbs had always talked to them and determined their own schedule. It was much better in the long run.
Calculating from Cheryl's information, Spot wasn't due to come out of pup mode for another week since he'd surfaced for only an hour the night before. Gibbs just had to hope the case was solved within that week, because he didn't relish the thought of the boy showing up the middle of the operation without a clue as to who he was.
Gibbs pulled to a stop outside the building and tossed his keys to the valet. He disliked the practice of keeping pups caged in the back of the vehicle but if he'd shown up with Spot sitting the front seat buckled in, there would have been questions. Seeing the pup cower in the back corner of the cage as he clipped the leash on didn't help ease the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Come on, boy," he snapped. "Haven't got all day."
"Just give 'em a good kick. Always gets 'em going," the doorman offered unwanted advice with a leer at Spot.
Gibbs just nodded and mumbled a thanks as he slipped in the door, Spot trailing on a taught leach behind him. He took a moment to look around the converted factory. Although he had always known the unauthorized show and fight arenas existed, he had only been in after the place had been cleared out. This one was anything but.
People milled about the front entrance area with multiple pups trailing on leashes. There was a kennel off to one side for storage if needed. From what Gibbs could see, storage wasn't the only thing going on in the kennel. His fingers itched for the gun he didn't have with him so he could take out every last man and woman that were mistreating the pups in the place. Instead, he just tightened his fingers on the leash in his hand. He had to bring them down from the inside; it was the only way.
He finally spotted the main entrance to the show arena and started for it when a man stepped in his path.
"Is that Spot? The Spot?" the man's voice rose an octave and Gibbs could feel others picking up the conversation.
"Lots of pups out there named Spot. What's it matter?" Gibbs snapped, letting impatience bleed through his voice.
"But his number, 6821-900, it has to be him," the man pressed.
Gibbs glanced at the dark numbers inked into the skin of the Spot's right ass cheek. He hadn't bothered to pay it much attention and he also hadn't checked the pup's background. Mentally he was kicking himself for that lack of attention.
"How'd you get him? Last anyone seen him was in Philly 'bout a year ago. He was one of the best when he came out of Peoria and then he just disappeared from the circuit."
Gibbs tried to calm himself. "Picked him up at a pound a few days ago for a song. Figured he was in good enough shape. Just a little underfed. Lost my last one in a fight in Norfolk and looking to start over. Only been hitting the circuits for six months."
"Damn," the man whistled out. "Some guys have all the luck. I can't wait to see him in the arena again."
Gibbs could see the other man getting aroused the more he looked at Spot and resisted the urge to clock the guy. "We'll have to see how it goes," Gibbs wrapped up and was pleased when the other man walked away.
Many thoughts filtered through Gibbs' mind and none of them were promising. If Spot had been a contender in these arenas, it meant he likely wasn't a legal pup. All legal pups were remanded to training facilities at the age of thirteen. And if he wasn't legal, that's why he was trained for staying in pup space for so long. Even when he did surface, he probably wasn't the man he had been. But these rings had great skills at falsifying all pup records to look like the real thing.
He could feel eyes on them and he kneeled down to make a show of checking Spot's fittings and teeth. As he did so, he leaned in close to the pup's ear.
"Don't know if you understand me or not, but I figure if you've been in these arenas before, you were never supposed to be like this. Once this is over, I'll do my damned best to help you find whatever they left of the real you in there. Got it, Spot?"
The pup blinked his green eyes at him and then leaned in and licked his face. Gibbs bit back a laugh and lightly swatted the pup on the back of his head.
"Behave," he barked and then led the pup into the arena where the loud speaker was blaring.
"Welcome to the Pompeii! Where the fights are explosive and it's every bitch for itself once they step paw into the arena!"